


Room 23

by orphan_account



Series: TsukkiKage Week 2015 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, TsukkiKage Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima Kei hears him playing the piano through a half-open door in the Tokyo Academy of Music. He can't resist joining in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room 23

**Author's Note:**

> Late to the party, but fashionably dressed - how I live my life. Probably going to take me all year to upload all the stories meant for one week in December 2015, but that's cool. I can deal with that.

Ask Tsukishima what he thought of music, and his answer—if, of course, he was inclined to answer you at all—would be “life.”

It’s his first day at Tokyo Academy of Music. He holds onto the strap of his violin case, which he’s slung across his back. As people flooded past him in all directions, he sees more instruments packed into one place here than he’d seen anywhere else. His heart thudded against his ribcage. This was all he’d ever wanted and then some.

He strolls down the corridor toward his classroom, listening to various songs being performed on a range of instruments. There’s so much noise he can hardly focus on where it’s all coming from.

Until he passes by the Room 23. The door is ajar; he can see the edge of a piano from where he stands. He stops, his jaw falling open, as he hears the melodious tune playing his favourite song. It sounds a little off, as it isn’t meant for just the piano. Tsukishima can hardly complain about that; the person playing plays their part to perfection. Not a second too late, not a bit off tune. The song is fast-paced and exciting, and this musician is keeping up.

He’s not sure what makes him do it. All he knows is that he’s compelled to. That music is calling to him. It’s not meant to be played solo; he must join in and make it whole. He must play the part this mystery musician cannot fill on his own.

Taking out his violin, he sets it on his shoulder and places the bow to the strings. He waits a few seconds for the opportune time to join in begins—and then he plays.

To his credit, the musician is taken off-guard for only a moment before they continue playing where they’d left off. Through an ajar door, Tsukishima and the mystery musician play. They’ve never met before in their lives, but as Tsukishima begins to lose himself in the music, he knows this is the best he’s ever managed to play alongside someone else.

To Tsukishima, music is not only meant to be heard and played, but to be felt. He feels every second of this song. Emotion rises within him. How could he care that people are stopping in the corridors to stare at the violinist playing in the corridor? All he cares about is the vibration that runs through him, the way that the peak of the song makes his blood sing through his veins.

He wants this song, this moment of connection, to last forever. But it ends—too soon, before he’s ready, it ends. He holds the final note for as long as he can, yet he cannot hold it forever. To the sound of raucous applause, he lowers his violin, eyes still shut in rapture. Someone whistles loudly.

He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care. Music—just give him the music. Give him back the moment that’s now passed. He wants to feel it again. He wants to know that moment a second time—a third time—wants to know it _forever_.

The door is thrown open and a tall, pale boy with dark blue eyes and straight black hair stares up at Tsukishima. He’s staring up at Tsukishima, reflecting the amazement Tsukishima feels. Out of breath as if he’s run a mile, the boy grabs Tsukishima as if scared he’ll walk away—how can he? How can he walk away after that? There’s no way. He has to stay; he needs this. The music, the connection this boy made him feel. The spark that’s lit Tsukishima up until he feels like a raw nerve—and drags him into the room. Tsukishima hooks his foot into his violin case quickly, dragging it in with him.

“You know how to play that?” the boy gasps.

Tsukishima inclines his head. This would’ve been the perfect time to insult him—of course it was him playing! Who else could it have been?—but he can’t. He can’t do that. One wrong word and this would all be a fleeting memory.

“Tsukishima Kei,” he introduces himself instead. “First year.”

“Kageyama Tobio,” the boy says. “I’m a first year as well.”

They stare at each other, wonder reflected in their eyes.

“Play that with me again,” says Kageyama. “Play that song with me all the way through. You joined in perfectly on the second third. I need to hear you play that with me all the way through.”

Tsukishima, in answer, places the violin back on his shoulder. With a smirk—perhaps it’s meant to be a smile?—Kageyama races back to the piano. They look at each other, communicating through looks alone, and begin the song at the same time.

And they drown in the music they produce. People passing by outside will find nothing out of the ordinary, hearing the two of them play. But inside room 23, magic is born through the power of Kageyama and Tsukishima’s music—and they want to keep playing forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't have a musical piece in mind when I wrote this. If you know of anything that might fit the bill, then pretend that's what I meant. I just had the idea for the story and went with it.


End file.
